Page 22 of Keeping Skylar
“You mean, he cried because he lost the race,” I correct her.
Emily shakes her head. “No, because Tommy is a big, sore loser just like Hayden who cries when he loses in a game of tag,” she casually informs me.
I purse my lips as I attempt to hold back a giggle. “Do you think, maybe, Hayden gets upset because he just wants to do well in the game?” I ask gently, hoping to soften Emily’s strong opinions about her fellow classmate.
Emily lets out an exaggerated sigh, as if I’m the one who’s utterly clueless. “No, Mrs Grant. Everyone knows—all boys are losers and cry-babies!” With that, she sets her drawing on my desk, and strides back to her table with more sass than any six-year-old should have. I cover my mouth to hide a laugh. I think this girl might be on to something.
The school bell rings and I quickly dismiss the class for lunch.
Lucia approaches after collecting the students’ work and places the stack on my desk.
“We’re off to a good start,” she says with a grin.
Just the sight of her face makes me want to punch her on the nose. Sure, she might be great at her job, but that doesn’t erase the fact that she’s still having an affair with my husband.
I smile wordlessly, then grab my phone and purse from the bottom drawer of my desk, and walk straight to the staffroom. She follows close behind.
“You okay?” she asks, noticing I haven’t said a single word to her.
“I’m super. Just hungry.”
She nods, falling silent until we reach the staffroom. “How was your weekend? Get up to anything exciting?” She pulls hersandwich and bottle of iced coffee from the fridge, then pauses, waiting for me to choose a seat.
I grab my chicken and avocado wrap and a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, my movements slow and deliberate as I settle on one of the sofas in the far corner of the room.
Lucia follows, taking a seat directly across from me, her nervous gaze never leaving me.
“Nothing exciting. Kaden took me out on a date Saturday night, that’s about it.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.
Her head snaps up, and she looks at me, surprised. “Oh? How romantic. That must’ve been quite a shock for you. I know you mentioned you haven’t been on a date in a while,” she says, striving for composure. But I know the thought of her lover spending real, quality time with his wife is gnawing at her.
I can’t help but relish the look on her face, so I decide to push a little more. “Yeah, I was pleasantly surprised, to be honest. He took me to dinner at Morelli’s, you know, that fancy, upscale restaurant with the perfect view of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House. Then, we strolled around the harbour, hand-in-hand, stealing kisses as we went. Honestly, he just couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off me.”
Her expression twists into something murderous, and I have to duck my head to hide my laughter.
Just as I’m about to take a bite of my wrap, Lucia interrupts with a snarky remark. “It might just be a phase. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” And then, the claws come out. “You’ve said it before—he goes through these stages of spoiling you, and then it’s back to nothing again, like he’s just ticking the ‘keep the wifey happy’ box.” Her bitter jealousy is thick, almost too painful to watch.
“Maybe. But that doesn’t explain why he’s suddenly so eager to start a family.”
“What!” she screeches, her eyes practically bulging out their sockets. “Are you fucking kidding me!”
“I wish I were joking, but Kaden was insistent that we start trying soon. Can you imagine—me, pregnant with his child in just a few months?” I sigh, feigning a dreamy expression.
Lucia’s entire posture stiffens, her face contorting in anger. She slams her food onto the coffee table, then leans back on the sofa with a heavy thud, arms crossed and her gaze penetrating through me. I can feel the heat radiating off her, like she’s ready to combust. I guess she’s done playing nice—her fury and irritation is written all over her.
My smirk is hidden behind my wrap—this is just too fucking entertaining! I’ll leave it to Kaden to deal with her rage. In fact, I’ll actually pay top dollar to watch that shitshow upfront.
Suddenly, an idea begins to form in my head. “What are you up to tonight?” I ask.
“I was going to go for a long workout, but I don’t feel like it now.” She huffs.
“Well, great. Come over for dinner.”
She shoots me a flat, disinterested look, like I’ve just asked her to co-host a bake sale fundraiser to help save the planet. “Umm ... I’m okay, thanks. I don’t want to impose.”
“Not at all. We’d love to have you over. It’s been a while since you came by our place for dinner. I’ll be cooking enough to feed an army anyway. What do you say?”
She hesitates for a moment, her jaw tightening, before giving a curt nod. “Alright, I’ll come,” she says, her tone devoid of any enthusiasm.
